


Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

by Ephemeral_Joy



Series: idiots in love [6]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: A thing I wrote, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Heartache, Miscommunication, Post 3x09, Romance, Shirbert, y'all im spiralling the fjnale is tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: Look, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wasn't heartbroken. She was, for like a day, but then she had mustered all the power a Marilla glare could contain and got over it. Did she still love Gilbert? Sure. But alas, she was a summer storm, and he a winter sun.In which Anne tries to move on, but a certain hazel eyed boy won't let her.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: idiots in love [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/886377
Comments: 18
Kudos: 353





	Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same

**Author's Note:**

> i'm spiralling. tonight's the finale. also i want you to visualise anne kissing gilbert like how torrence kissed cliff at the end of "bring it on". thank you.
> 
> not edited / not beta'd / title from emily bronte
> 
> my tumblr so we can cry together: https://lydias--stiles.tumblr.com/  
> the podcast about awae with @theystayalive https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1PPO4Fcyo5zcse3zZW-L6g

Look, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wasn't heartbroken. She was, for like a day, but then she had mustered all the power a Marilla glare could contain and got over it. Did she still love Gilbert? Sure. But she knew it was for the best; their paths simply didn't coinside. She was a summer storm, and he a winter sun. Her warm and wild, him collected and cheeky. Her grande adventure awaited her, yet he had already been through them. It was  _ her  _ turn to see Trinidad (or wherever the wind would take her).

Even if they shared the same intellect and wit and had a hunger for real connection and the worldly truth - it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps she was destined for her heart to break, so that she'd find someone better in the future. She'd been hung up on Gilbert for far too long. Maybe at Queen's she'll finally find that dark, brooding character she has been writing about for years: no boyish smiles and winks and tinkling grins - a  _ real _ man. (The thought made her shiver uncomfortably, but she ignored it.)

After a night of crying, she was ready to face the world again, to be diplomatic towards Gilbert ("Congratulations on the engagement! I really want that pen back though.") and focus on her goals. Being the best at Queen's and aiming to travel. She had always smelled the same scent, but she wondered how other counties smelled. Sweeter, or more bitter. Maybe the same as Canada. Maybe it smelled like nothing. Maybe it smelled like the future: metal and gas. Anne smiled, placing the last fork on the dinner table.

'What will you be doing today, Anne? Something eventful I presume?', Marilla asked, placing the porridge on the table. Right on time Matthew came home, a sack of Blythe-Lacroix apples in his hand.

'Sebastian and Gilbert said hello,' he said, nodding.

‘I think I will visit Diana. We have ever so few days left before she departs to Paris,’ the word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Paris where Gilbert would be residing alongside Winifred, a place Anne hadn’t been able to offer. ‘Maybe I should make scones? What do you think, Matthew?’

He stared at her, surprised. ‘Uh, I think that would be nice.’

Anne clapped her hands. ‘It’s settled then, a dozen scones before noon. Should be fine. I’m fine, did I mention that? It’s an exquisite summer day and I will enjoy it to the fullest.’

Marilla threw her a concerned look. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely!’, Anne all but yelled. 

‘I will be off,’ Matthew interrupted, an awkward cough coming from his lips. ‘Tending to the foul and-’, he shrugged, leaving the kitchen and making haste towards the stable. Marilla rolled her eyes. The woman’s gaze fell back on her daughter who was busy assembling the ingredients. 

‘Anne?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Marilla,’ Anne sighed, exasperated, ‘I  _ am _ . Gilbert made a decision and I will stand behind that. Now I only want to focus on my future. Have the results from the exams come in yet?’

Marilla stared at her for a moment, helpless. Only yesterday had she filled the girl with hope, to go after what she wanted and tell the Blythe boy about her feelings once and for all; to get that happily ever after she deserved. And yet. 

She was not one to think vile thoughts about another person, especially the lovely miss Winifred Rose, but in that moment she wished the lady didn’t exist. 

‘No,’ she replied. 

Anne puffed. ‘That’s alright. It must be tomorrow then, or later this evening.’

‘You mustn’t worry, Anne,’ Marilla reassured, ‘you’ll be fine.’

‘What about “perfect”?’, he girl retorted, beginning to mix the flour with the butter. 

‘Again, it will be-’

‘ _ Anne _ !’ The familiar, deep voice thundered across the Green Gables property, making both Cuthbert women jump in surprise. Anne’s heart rattled in her chest as she realised who it was. Despite the volume, he didn’t sound angry but rather excited.

‘Anne!’, he repeated, now closer. 

‘Go,’ Marila ushered gently, taking Anne’s place at the mxing bowl. A promising smile adorned her thin lips. Perhaps…

Anne cautiously wiped her hands off on her apron, fear evident in her eyes. Was he going to cheerfully announce he was an engaged man? (If the situation ha dbeen different, she would’ve scoffed. “Man”; as if Gilbert Blythe wasn’t idiotic enough to be seen as a boy.) That the wedding was in two months across the pond so none of his family could celebrate? That he loved Winifred? 

Or, she tried to calm her nerves, was it something else? Like Dellie saying her first word, or how great the school was starting to look, or the results-

Anne’s eyes widened with glee, rishing out of the kitchen door onto the field where she nearly crashed into a sprinting Gilbert. His eyes were blown with esctasy, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. For a second she thought it was her note, but upon taking a better look and realising it wasn’t the same, she relaxed. 

‘The results! They’re in!’, Gilbert bellowed before she could say anything. Anne gasped, grabbing forearm in a flurry of excitement. He didn’t seem to notice. 

‘So?’, Anne shrieked, trying to snatch the paper from his hands. Gilbert smirked at that, keeping the paper above his head. Anne huffed, not even trying to get it as she knew she’d be fruitless. She has matured, thank you very much. 

‘Guess?’

‘Guess what?’

‘Your ranking?’

‘Of the class? First,  _ obviously _ ,’ she glared at Gilbert at the latter word, making his grin widen. It was then she realised the weight of the situation. He was here, in front of her, bathing in the bautiful morning sunshine. His hazel eyes glittered, hair deliciously fluffy (she’d lie if she said she hadn’t dreamed of it before), face right out of a romance novel. 

_ You’re over him. _

Anne blinked, hoping he hadn’t noticed the staring. If she took a closer look, she’d see the blush on his cheeks as well. ‘And of the island?’ She bit her lip. ‘Tenth?’ Gilbert gave her a look. ‘Fine. Twentieth?’

Gilbert chuckled in disbelief, lowering his arm and giving her the paper. She grabbed it with shaky fingers. ‘Congratulations,’ he whispered. 

_ First _ . First of Avonlea. And third! Third in all of PEI! Her eyes skimmed past hers to look at the others. Gilbert right underneath her, but-

‘We’re tied,’ she whispered, horror on her face. After all these years of trying to one up him, they were  _ tied _ . It only made the heartbreak more ironic, a bitter knife like a thorn in her eye.

But then acceptance settled in her body. Sorbonne would accept him with these resuts, he’d be able to make his dreams come true, make his father proud. She should be happy for him.

Anne mustered a smile, ‘We’re tied.’

Gilbert’s gaze intensified as well. ‘Fair and square.’

‘Winifred,’ she perked up, noticing the frown marring his forehead, ‘must be over the moon. The Sorbonne will accept you with open arms.’ 

His eyes roved her face for a second. It unnnerved her, as if he could see right through her, straight to her soul where his name was etched in gold. ‘I’m not going.’

It felt as though she was struck by lightening. ‘You’re not?’ Her voice was frail. 

Gilbert shook his head. ‘I went to Charlottetown yesterday to cancel everything. The courting, the engagement, Sorbonne, …’

‘But… your dream!’

‘Sorbonne is not my dream,’ he interjected, ‘I think I fell in love with the idea, rather than the place itself.’

Anne couldn’t focus on anything he said, his words buzzing in her brain without context. ‘And Winifred! How did- I- I thought-’

‘I don’t…,’ he gulped, ‘you know. I couldn’t see a future with her where I would be happy.’

Anne exhaled deeply, trying to take it all in. Why was he doing this, right as she started to heal her heart?! He lookd troubled too, the frown stuck on his face. If she had been his, she would’ve caressed the skin with her thumb.

‘So…,’ she murmered, staring, ‘now what?’

‘I’m going to Toronto, to the school miss Stacey suggested. And… I’ll wait. For the right person. I’ll know when I see her.’ She didn’t miss the notion that he was staring directly in her eyes, hazel glued to blue. A blush rose on her cheeks. 

‘Anne! The scones!’, Marilla yelled from inside. The girl snapped out of it, giving Gilbert his paper back. Their fingers touched. 

‘I have to get back,’ she whispered. Without awaiting his goodbye, she turned her back to him and walked back. Just as she reached the front steps, his voice beckoned her to turn around. 

‘You know it’s you right?! It’s always been you!’ He stood there, helpless, desperation in his tone. Her jaw fell slack. The kitchen fell quiet too.

Gilbert loved her? 

‘But it’s… it’s fine. I’ll wait,’ he raised his arms, ‘because I know I messed up.’ 

Anne was speechless, staring at the boy ten meters away. Had he felt it too? All the moments in between where they didn’t do anything but be themselves and smile as if they knew something the other didn’t. All the nonsensical conversations and the deep ones, about politics and poetry. All the glares and locked gazes. Everything. It’s always been him.

Without realising her feet has rushed down the steps back to him, heart pounding in her throat as if trying to escape and place it in his hands. 

‘Idiot,’ she breathed, ‘you don’t have to wait.’ And with that, she grabbed his neck and kissed him square on the lips, the way she always wanted to. 

And there, on a summery morning at Green Gables - between scones and young fouls, between youth and adulthood, between a redheaded dreamer and a brunette charmer - the story of Anne and Gilbert continued. 

* * *

_ “I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.” _

_ \- Emily Bronte _


End file.
